


My Only Light

by alecmagnuslwb



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, John Constantine being a lil dumb but also secretly romantic, inspired by my obsession with the iconic you've always been my light line from jldark, mentions of others - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26511658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alecmagnuslwb/pseuds/alecmagnuslwb
Summary: For all the darkness in his world, surrounding him and sometimes swallowing him whole, there’s also light, Zatanna is the brightest thing he'll ever know, always guiding him back home and keeping him sane.Aka 5 times John called Zee his light and the one time she says he’s hers too.
Relationships: John Constantine/Zatanna Zatara
Comments: 10
Kudos: 29





	My Only Light

**1**

The first time he says it it’s in a whisper of breath in the cold light of a dreary grey morning. The night before had been no less than a shitshow. In hindsight making a deal with a demon named Dolo, which quite literally means deceit hadn’t been his best thought out plan to date.

But John Constantine isn’t exactly known for always thinking before he acts.

He’d thought he was done for, with the demons six scaly hands wrapped around his throat, his arms immobilized to his side he figured it was finally going to happen. Finally, a demon would get its way and drag him down to hell where he belongs.

And just as he felt the flicking flames of the underworld truly touching his feet, not just the pull that usually haunts him, she showed up. Zatanna in all her magical glory stepped through a portal and blasted the demon with a hit of swirling angry red magic so hard it sent John flying back a few feet as well.

Likely an intentional move considering how upset he knew she’d be that he didn’t just call her in the first place.

Just like that the ground wasn’t swallowing him up and Dolo was nothing more than a pile of dust. John’s vision was blurred and darkened as he attempted to stand, falling back to the ground after even the slightest movement. Whether it was from the blood loss at his neck or the literal hellfire he’d felt he’s not sure, but everything was hazy and dark around him until Zatanna was hovering over him a burst of light in fishnets and a top hat.

“Wasn’t sure you’d get my message,” he said looking up at her forcing his eyes to stay open and look at her shine. His voice came out broken and a little wet, he’s pretty sure there was some internal bleeding involved. Zatanna healed him quickly and sighed once she was finished.

“Of course I did,” Zatanna said looking at him a little fond, a little sad and far more tender than he deserves. “Your fail safe could use an update though,” she added voice much angrier referring to his longtime magical fail safe that sends a message to her whenever he finds himself in a no escape, likely moments away from dying situation he should have called her in the first place for help with. “Maybe don’t make it so I get the message when the claws are already about to decapitate you.” Her voice getting softer with each word.

That was last night, she’s lying in bed beside where he’s propped up on the headboard now her face peaceful not a bit of anger or sadness curling at the edge of her lips. A streak of sunlight peeks through the clouds and the tattered curtains of the hotel room they’d settled in for the night cascading over her bare shoulder. She’s so bright, even exhausted in a trashy hotel room, and John can’t believe he gets to have her.

He reaches out a hand ghosting lightly over her hair brushing it back from her face.

“I’ve walked in darkness my entire life. And I’ve been at home there. But you, Zee? You’ve always been my light,” he says quietly hoping not to wake her. It’s so quiet and still in the room that for moment or two he thinks he’s succeeded until she grumbles lightly shifting closer to him tossing an arm over his waist and tugging, a signal for him to lay back down.

“Wax poetic later, sleep now,” she says eyes never opening. John snorts and slides back down letting himself be fully embraced in her arms and in her light.

**2**

Pitch black basements in houses that may or may not be haunted are generally a bad thing, so of course John is currently in one tugging at a light string that’s so old it breaks after one failed pull. The light pouring in from the flickering halls his only guide.

Luckily he moves well in darkness, metaphorically and literally.

He and Zatanna have been investigating a house as a courtesy for an old friend of her father’s. The old woman thought the place was haunted, Zatanna was more convinced the woman was just lonely and living in a house with creaky boards.

Usually he would agree, but when the basement door slams shut from a gust of wind and locks him in he’s not so certain.

He rushes up the stairs tripping in the darkness over a few of them before banging on the door.

“Zee!” he shouts tugging on the door handle the thing not even budging. There’s nothing but silence on the other side, Zatanna likely still in the attic where she’d been headed when he bounded down the steps of the dingy basement. He knocks on the door a few more times shouting her name unsuccessfully.

He huffs and pulls a lighter from his pocket flicking it to life and using it to brighten the space around him when a noise catches his attention to the left. He goes down the few short stairs and points his only light source towards the corner when he hears the sound again from the other side of the room. Another gust of cold air seeps across his skin and knocks out his light.

The sound moves faster now coming from both sides as he frantically attempts to relight his lighter, the damn thing not cooperating. When something rushes across his foot and another something taps at the back of his leg he’s not proud of it and he’ll deny it till his dying day, but he yelps loudly and a little higher pitched than he thought he was capable of scrambling towards the stairs.

The door swings open with a particularly forceful tug as soon as he hits the second step, Zatanna standing there a look of concern on her face and a flashlight in hand shining down on him.

“My literal damn light in the darkness,” he breathes out in relief looking down and seeing nothing nearby that could have been touching him anymore. She smirks at the light comment and pushes the door open further, ensuring it doesn’t jam again.

“I heard a scream,” she says moving the light up and down his body seemingly satisfied that he’s unharmed when she comes down a few steps and moves the flashlight around the basement.

“It was a yelp,” he defends jumping up to the same step she’s on and a little shamefully hiding behind her his hands on her waist. “Something’s down here, luv.” He says it low like he’s trying not to anger whatever it might be.

She shifts the flashlight around the floor when the sound that had startled him in the first place comes again. Two mice scuttle into view looking at them wide eyed for a moment before scurrying off to another corner.

Zatanna purses her lips poorly holding in her laughter.

“Shush,” he says in a huff pointedly stomping up the stairs, Zatanna no longer bothering to try and hold in her giggles. It’s a delightful sound, but he’s just grumpy enough to keep stomping away determined to prove the house is haunted just to save his dignity.

It isn’t.

**3**

The chilly November air swirls around them as they huddle close walking through Robinson Park after an all expenses paid dinner courtesy of Gotham’s favorite Bachelor in a bat suit. Gotham City is a bit of a hellhole in many respects, but this park is well kept thanks to the donations of Wayne Industries and one of the cities finer and safer points.

It’s been a long two weeks working with the bat and this is the first night they’ve had to themselves since arriving. They’ll be gone by tomorrow back to San Francisco where they settle these days, it’s the most stable John’s felt in years, maybe in his entire life with her. It feels good.

They settle on a bench John instantly tossing one arm over Zatanna’s shoulders and pulling her close. He uses his other hand to look for a smoke.

“Fuck,” John grumbles patting at all his pockets and coming up empty.

Zatanna reaches into the inside pocket of her own jacket, a black jean jacket covered in patches that’s too big on her and actually used to be John’s once upon a time. She pulls out a pack of cigarettes and shakes them in front of his eyes.

“Did you really think,” she says pulling one from the pack and sticking it between her lips. “That I didn’t know you keep a pack in that pot on the balcony that’s empty because we keep killing all the plants we put in there?” she smirks at him around the cigarette pulling the lighter from the pack and flicking it to life.

“I took the pack out in the hopes that we might successfully plant something in there and in the knowledge that you’re always running out and losing full packs when we’re working,” she continues as she puts the flame to the end of the cigarette.

“You know me so damn well,” he says with his own answering smirk. Once the cigarettes lit she puts the pack and lighter back in her pocket and takes a slow drag. John would never wish his nasty habit on her permanently, but he won’t act like it isn’t one of the sexiest visions in the world to see the smoke curl from her dark painted lips a bit of her magic at the edges of it.

She smiles, genuine at him as she pulls the cigarette away and holds it out for him. He ducks his head quickly placing a light kiss on the two fingers that hold the cigarette before putting his lips around it and pulling back ensuring the lit end doesn’t brush her fingers.

“Too damn well,” she says with a roll of her eyes dropping her hand. He takes his own drag loving the burn of it in his lungs and the sweet taste of her lipstick staining the end.

“My light always with a light for me,” he smiles pulling the cigarette away and placing a quick kiss on her hair.

She rolls her eyes again before settling back under his arm and into his side.

“You get cornier and cornier the older we get,” she says curling a hand into his trench coat for warmth. John just laughs around another drag of his cigarette not arguing the point.

**4**

John wakes up screaming.

In an instant Zatanna is pouring into the bedroom her hands on his shoulders, a steadying grip grounding him back to reality.

“You’re okay,” she says soothingly as he gets control of his breath. “You’re okay.”

He looks down at himself covered in sweat and then up at her a vision of goddess-hood in a white t-shirt, dark pants, suspenders and sharp dark eyeliner. Just one look at her settles his frayed nerves a bit more than anything else could.

He doesn’t remember the nightmare, but it must have been a doozy to leave him in the state he is. He does however remember the night before, or parts of it, and winces.

It’d been the anniversary of losing little Astrid at Newcastle, a hard day any year, a day that reminds him of his failures and of how he’s never quite good enough in the end. One drink in her memory had turned into two, which turned into shots and a pool game gone wrong which resulted in the ache in his jaw from the punch he vaguely remembers receiving after trying to haul off with some bloke’s entire wallet. He’d been thrown out of two pubs before some bartender had finally taken pity on him and cut him off, stealing his phone and calling the first number they’d found.

Years ago he’d put numbers before Zatanna’s name to make sure she would always be at the top of his contacts just in case, instead of dead last as she would be alphabetically. It’s one of those moments though were he wishes he’d changed that; wishes that she didn’t have to deal with him like this.

“I’m sorry,” he says grimacing a bit as her hands drop from his shoulders. She looks a little stunned at the words, which just makes them even truer. He fucks up pretty frequently and doesn’t apologize enough if she looks surprised to hear it said out loud. It’s something he needs to work on.

“John,” she starts softly, all kindness and understanding he doesn’t deserve in this moment at all so he cuts her off.

“No, I got fucked up last night and I shouldn’t have and the responsibility of making sure I didn’t drink myself to death shouldn’t have landed on you,” he says firmly looking directly into her bright eyes, almost too bright to look into with his head screaming a headache from every angle. “So, I’m sorry.”

Usually she would have been with him on the day keeping him from doing as he had done the night before, but he’d done a number on their relationship a few months prior and they’ve been distant. The fact that she showed up when a random bartender told her to come pick up his drunk ass means more than he’ll ever be able to express and as usual is more than he deserves.

“You’re forgiven,” she says with a small sad smile. She reaches out pushing his sweaty bangs back from his forehead. “Go wash up, I made one of your good old-fashioned hangover cure breakfasts.” She stands up from where she’d settled on the edge of the bed and pats him on the shoulder as she goes.

The shower helps and the breakfast, despite it nearing two in the afternoon, refreshes him even more. He’ll always be grateful that despite being a stout vegetarian she took the time to learn his hangover breakfast recipes back when they first got together. Zatanna just sits beside him the whole time sipping a coffee quietly and scrolling through her phone.

“Thank you,” he says eventually after pushing his empty plate away. She sits her phone down and turns to him.

“You don’t have to thank me,” she shrugs always so damn good and humble. She deserves everything, a simple thanks doesn’t even begin to cover it, but it’s all he has.

“I really do,” he says running a hand across his jaw, the stubble reminding him he should have shaved too while he was washing the sadness and sweat away in the shower. “I’ve been shit these last few months and I know it, but you showed up anyways, so thank you.”

She smiles reaching out and tapping her fingers lightly against his knuckles.

“You’d do the same for me, no matter how shit you are,” she says with a smile and for the first time in days John actually feels good. She moves to pull away, but John stops her flipping his hand and tangling their fingers together.

“I know you hate it when I say it, but you really are my light Zee, more than I ever deserve,” he says squeezing her hand once before letting go. She pulls back and collects his plate pausing next to him as she does. She leans down pressing a kiss into his hair.

“You deserve more than you think,” she says before stepping away and disappearing into the kitchen.

He doesn’t believe it for a second, but he appreciates the sentiment from the best person he’ll ever know anyways.

**5**

It’s hell and fire surrounding them again and he’s so goddamn angry.

Things were finally settling into place with the world, with his ever-improving mindset and most importantly and selfishly with them. Now he’s standing in front of a burning pentagram that will take him to hell and he may never come back, Zatanna standing in front of him begging him to not do this alone.

The window of the bar they’ve taken over to do this in bursts, glass shattering all around, a bit cutting at the exposed skin of his hand and neither of them even flinch too focused on one another and the reality of what’s about to happen settling in, hyper aware of the argument they’re about to have and he’s too stubborn to lose. Outside there are shouts of fear and fighting, somewhere every friend they have is fighting every hell beast and monster that’s slithering out of a crack in the universe raining hell down on earth trying to contain it to Metropolis alone before John seals it from the other side.

“It’s the only way, Zee,” he says for at least the fifth time. She knows, but he understands her position he’d be fighting the same fight if it was her making a choice that would likely end with her death.

There’s only three people on their side with magic strong enough to seal an exposed gate to hell, she’s too important to the world and to him to be the one to do it and Doctor Fate is too self-important to do it, which just leaves him.

It’s not the hero moment he asked for, but it’ll have to do to really earn that Justice League membership Bats handed over months ago that had a lot of existing members scratching their heads.

“We can figure out something else,” she says weakly. “I can go with you, we’re stronger together.”

It’s true in a lot of senses and in theory for this particular situation, but this is a one-way ticket most likely and she’s too damn valuable to test a theory.

John steps forward fingers gripping around the suspenders she’s wearing and tugging her close. 

“There’s no other way, my love,” he says pressing his forehead to hers. Her hands come up lightly holding onto his bent elbows. “I can close it and you can save the world.” He sighs and moves forward gathering her up in his arms and holding her close. Her arms lock tightly around his waist like she can hold him here with just this.

She could. He can’t let her though.

“I love you,” he says, taking what might be his last chance to tell her everything he feels about her. It’s easier to say it this way with her bright eyes not staring into his and making him change his mind about this. “You are the light in every darkness I’ve ever faced, you’re the whole damn world to me.”

Zatanna’s arms squeeze around him tighter as he pulls back. He leans in kissing her for all he’s worth, pouring every apology he’s never given her, every word he’s said and hasn’t, every touch he’ll miss and every touch that set him alight into it and god does she give right back. She doesn’t need to say a thing back, he feels it all in her kiss. It feels like a goodbye, he hates that it probably is.

“Fuck this,” she says wetly once he pulls away. She doesn’t move to stop him this time though, even if her hands twitch at her sides desperately wanting to.

John chuckles and smirks stepping backwards into the pentagram and flames with his arms spread wide.

“I emphatically agree,” he says before the flames take over and his screams begin. The last thing he sees before the pain takes over is Zatanna wiping away tears a sad laugh escaping her lips at his theatrics.

**+1**

Miracle of all miracles that can only be explained because of the existence of Zatanna Zatara he makes it back. It takes three days which feels like three hundred years for him, but somehow she finds a loophole, sneaks in and gets him home without so much as a hellhound following them out.

He sleeps for five days straight after she portals them into their shared room in the House of Mystery. When he wakes he’s disappointed to find no get well soon bouquets from Superman and then is hit with a split second of wondering if he dreamed it all when he notices it’s dark outside and Zatanna is nowhere to be found.

But before any fear can overtake him she’s pushing the door open with her hip a tray of food in her hands and she freezes.

“There you are,” she says hopeful and lovely, choking on the words just enough that it would go unnoticed by anyone but him. She sits the tray down on the vanity before throwing herself into his arms on the bed.

“Here I am,” he says disbelieving he’s back here, in this bed with this woman, the only place he ever wants to be. They stay that way for a while just holding onto each other before she eventually leans back.

She looks tired hair pulled up in a swaying ponytail, not a smidge of makeup or jewelry on wearing one of his old torn to shreds Mucous Membrane t-shirts and leggings that look like the galaxy. She’s never looked more beautiful; she’s never been more the personification of the light of his life merely for the fact she’s here and this is real and he’s not dead or stuck in hell running for his very soul for eternity.

He says just that aloud.

“You’re always saying that, John,” she says brushing a hand through his hair briefly before sliding down to settle her fingers lightly on his collarbone just above the tattoo on his chest she’d picked out the design for what feels like a lifetime ago when they were twenty and filled with light. She held onto hers though, even if he lost his along the way. “That I’m your light and I don’t doubt it, but have you ever stopped to consider for a moment that you’re mine too?”

John freezes. He hadn’t. The thought had never once crossed his mind and if it weren’t for the fact that he’s stone cold sober right now and more alert and aware than usual he’d question if he even heard her correctly. As far as he’s concerned John is all shadows and the darkness at the end of a tunnel with only dead ends, he’s no light, no beacon of anything, especially not to the woman who’s always been the glowing candle in his undercurrent of nothingness, the flashlight in every cave he’s been brutally tossed into.

The concept is completely implausible. Yet, here she is saying it.

“I know you’ll never believe it,” she goes on and continues running her fingers delicately along his collarbone. “But it’s the truth, for all the mistakes you make and the mess you tend to bring with you, you’re the most consistent thing in my life. You’re always there when I need you, you’re always the first person I want to be there, you may think you’re all darkness and monsters, but to me that’s never been the case.”

She drops her hand and grabs one of his holding it between both of her own. They’re a little cold, just like always, a stark contrast to the burning scorch his skin always holds.

“You’re my light as much as I’m yours, keep that in mind for me next time you step into a hell portal on a suicide mission will you?” she requests with a light teasing tone. He hears the words beneath it, don’t you dare die on me.

He can’t make any promises on that front and he’s frankly so stunned by the admission he can’t find the words to articulate it, so he settles for moving forward kissing her soft and slow, a complete opposite to the last kiss they’d shared all desperate and filled with farewells. This one is slow and tender saying with his slightly chapped lips and warm tongue that he’ll stay as long as hell allows him.

“I’ll do my best,” he says eventually long after the kiss and a few dozen more his back pressed to her chest her fingers carding through his hair as he trails light paths with his own hands up and down her now bare thighs.

“Good,” she says tugging a little at the ends of his sandy hair understanding what he means. For the first time in a long time he feels like maybe he does have some light left in him too.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: [alecmagnuslwb](https://alecmagnuslwb.tumblr.com/)


End file.
